Taking A Break
by susieq666
Summary: This is a sequel to 'Conversations'. It follows a growing friendship between Horatio and his former psychiatrist, Cecile. And a small dog called Sebastien.
1. Chapter 1

TAKING A BREAK

Chapter 1

Horatio awoke stiff, uncomfortable and confused. He tried to move and was stopped by a small 'yip' of protest.

"Seb?" He felt around until he encountered the dog's small body, curled up against his belly. He stroked him idly, and tried to concentrate.

It was just getting light. Cecile's condo… Cecile's sofa… He was fully dressed, bar his jacket and shoes, and half-covered with a blanket. He thought back to the evening before.

It had gone surprisingly well, mostly because the dog was such a good ice-breaker. Everyone had made a fuss of him, and he clearly, despite his time on the streets, enjoyed human interaction. Inquiries about his injuries – he still had stitches, and a bandage on a broken leg - elicited a response from Cecile, 'Horatio ran him down.' Horatio was teased about it for the rest of the evening.

He realised quickly that Calleigh knew who Cecile was. It was an unusual enough name that she would not have forgotten it. But, apart from a quick glance at him, she gave nothing away, which was only what he would expect. He did, however, expect a few questions when he got back to work.

He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep here. He hadn't been that tired, had only had a couple of drinks. The last he remembered was sitting talking to Cecile, enjoying the conversation, but thinking he really ought to go home…

He glanced at his watch. Six-fifteen… He felt annoyed with himself, and mildly embarrassed. Carefully, he moved Sébastien and got stiffly to his feet.

"Go back to sleep, dog," he whispered. "It's early."

He planned to leave a note, and slip out of the condo, but the little dog had got down from the sofa and nosed his way into what he knew to be Cecile's bedroom. He heard a demanding whine. _Oh, be quiet…_

He heard a few muttered words – in French, he thought – then a rustle of bedding, as the dog was presumably lifted on to the bed. _Spoilt… _Then silence. He realised it was actually the little dog's first night here. He smiled. _Start as you mean to continue…_ He found a piece of paper, scribbled, 'I'm sorry. Call you later. H.', and tiptoed out of the condo.

The roads were quiet as he drove home. A shower and a change of clothes refreshed him somewhat, though his back was aching, protesting at his uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. He was at his desk by eight o'clock. He called Calleigh, on the excuse of discussing a case, but really to discover if he was going to be grilled.

"I enjoyed last night," she said easily. "I really like Cecile."

"I presume you know who she is…"

She nodded. "Are you still consulting her?"

"No. I met her by chance. We just found… we enjoyed talking. Of course, she knows everything about me, and I know next to nothing about her. But we seem to get along."

"You don't have to explain, Horatio. I'm certainly not going to say anything. As far as I'm concerned, she's just a friend of yours."

"Which is true."

"I _love_ Seb." She chuckled. "Did you really run him down?"

"I did. He ran right in front of me. I just couldn't avoid the little devil."

"He doesn't seem to hold it against you."

"Well, I suppose he thinks I rescued him, rather than hurt him. He was a stray – going up for adoption. I never expected Cecile to take him on." He laughed. "Something like a saluki would suit her better."

"It would. She's a very elegant woman. It's that 'French' thing." She looked quizzically at him. "You know, they will gossip about you. It's so rare to see you with a woman friend."

"Well, I can't stop that, can I? If they find it so fascinating… Can't imagine why."

"Come on, Horatio! You're not naïve." She chuckled. "They always take an interest in you. You're important to them. And…" She broke off, her face becoming serious.

"What?"

"Well, they think you've been rather… unhappy, lately… They'll just be glad for you."

"They'll assume things that aren't there."

"They're not out to hurt or embarrass you, Horatio… They care about you. You don't have to explain things to anyone."

"Calleigh, Calleigh, there's nothing to explain!"

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"And I shouldn't have invited Cecile to a team thing."

"Yes, you should. Horatio… accept that your team are fond of you. That's all."

They dropped the subject. Horatio knew she was right about the gossip, but he also knew that no one would say anything to his face. He'd simply ignore it. Meanwhile, he phoned Cecile.

"Ringing to apologise… Why did you let me fall asleep?"

He heard her laugh. "I couldn't stop you."

"You should have woken me – sent me home."

"You looked so peaceful. Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"I enjoyed yesterday evening. I like your people."

"I gather they like you. We're now the subject of gossip, of course."

She chuckled. "I'm sure you'll handle it. Come round sometime?"

"I will."

"Don't leave it too long."

* * *

He didn't intend to leave it long, but several late evenings at work, coupled with a vague notion that he didn't want to seem too eager, and almost a week passed. But now it was Friday, and he wasn't that busy. He thought he'd make time that evening… He reached for an internal letter that had just been delivered. Horatio read it once, twice, then picked up the phone to his boss.

"Chief? I've got a strange letter from Human Resources…"

"Strange?"

"It seems to be saying I have to take a holiday."

The Chief chuckled. "Ah, _that_ letter. I thought you'd object."

"What's it mean? I've _got_ to take a holiday?"

"Yep. I asked them to review who hadn't taken their holiday entitlement. You haven't used yours for three years."

"I don't like holidays. Isn't my work up to scratch?"

"I'm sure it's fine. Nonetheless, you ought to have a break. The staff welfare code says you should. And you're not the only one. Your department seems particularly… devoted to work."

"We're very busy," Horatio said defensively. "You might even say understaffed."

"It's not up for discussion. I know you're more or less between cases."

"It's an order?"

"It is. At least two weeks. Now."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"I don't know, Lieutenant! Take a cruise or something. You probably shouldn't stay in Miami. You won't be able to stay away from the lab, will you? All right?"

"I suppose so…" He put the phone down, bemused, and stared at the letter again. It was true – he did hate holidays. A workaholic, he had few hobbies, and fewer friends. Still, it was only two weeks. He had no intention of going away, but he supposed he could go through the motions. Since it was an order.

He called Eric.

"Spare a minute? My office…"

The young man arrived looking anxious.

"Don't look like that. There's nothing wrong. Look… I've been told to take some time off. I don't want to…"

Eric grinned. "Oh, I got one of those letters too."

"You did? Well, I queried it with the Chief, and it's basically an order. So the lab's yours for two weeks, starting Monday. Okay?"

"Fine. You deserve a break."

"I don't _want_ a break." He smiled ruefully. "However, seems I have no choice. Look, Eric, see who else has got these letters and work out a schedule, so there won't be two people away at the same time." He hesitated. "Do I work you too hard?"

"You work yourself too hard."

"That's not what I asked. I can't remember the last time any of you had more than a day or two off."

Eric shrugged. "You know how it is – you get busy on a case. You don't want to leave it in the middle. Then something else comes up. And you end up never getting away."

"I told the Chief we were understaffed." He chuckled. "He didn't react. I'll work to the end of today, then… I'll see you in two weeks. Of course, if something major comes up this afternoon, I'll change my mind, orders or not."

He spent the rest of the day tidying up loose ends and putting his office in order. That done, he strolled down to see Frank Tripp.

He felt almost awkward as he said, "I won't be here for two weeks – Eric's in charge."

"Compulsory holiday…"

"Not you too?"

"Me too – I'm not taking it yet, but in a few weeks… Apparently, I only took four days off in the last year. Don't know why they care – we're short staffed, and no one's said the work's suffering. Some stupid new rule. But… I shall enjoy it – go to some games, see the kids…"

"I shan't – enjoy it."

"No, but then, you're a hopeless workaholic. Hell, Horatio, you could try to enjoy it! There must be places you want to go."

"Alone?"

"Do you have to be? What about that nice lady you brought with you the other day? Cecile?"

"We're not… like that."

"Like what? I'm not talking sharing hotel rooms. Just some company for a few outings, is all… Anyway, up to you. If you're determined to be miserable, you will be. And it'll be a long two weeks."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

TAKING A BREAK

Chapter 2

Horatio sat on Cecile's balcony, sipping coffee, with Sébastien sitting on his knee.

"Great meal. Thank you."

She shrugged. "I'll do better if you give me some warning."

"Sorry."

"Oh, I'm always happy to see you." She smiled and indicated the dog. "So is he."

"How's he doing?"

"Very well. Costing me a lot of money." She pointed to the netting, which was fixed over the opening above the balcony rail.

"Can't say I like it."

"No, but it lets the sun and air in. And I couldn't risk him. He'll soon be able to jump again… I mean, he survived your car, but a fall from here would kill him. I couldn't bear that."

He was silent for a while, enjoying the peace. Then he said, "What sort of things do you like doing?"

Cecile laughed. "What a question! All sorts…"

"Seriously. I don't know anything about you…"

"Well, I like the beach, eating out… Art galleries… The theater. I don't like shopping very much. Why?"

"I've got a couple of weeks off. I hoped… we might go out a few times. If you'd like to…"

"I'd love to. I've only got two clients next week. And Sébastien has an appointment with the vet on Monday. His stitches come out, and he'll be neutered."

"Poor thing."

"That's a very male reaction, Horatio. It's nothing to a dog. Just a little snip-snip."

"Only a woman would say that." But he smiled.

"It's a rule of adopting him. And I can take him to a dog park then without him chasing all the lady dogs."

The terrier turned his head and gave him a look, as much as to say 'What can you do?' Horatio burst out laughing. "I think he knows." He stroked the dog's head. "Poor old Seb."

"No, he's not 'poor old Seb'! He's going to be very happy."

"I know. I'm teasing."

"So why are you taking a holiday? Any special reason?"

He chuckled. "I've been ordered to."

"Oh, my dear, why? Is it your health?"

"No, absolutely not. My health's fine." He explained about the directive. "Seems pointless, but several of us have been told to take time off."

"You don't like holidays?"

"Not much. People say I'm a workaholic. Anyway… I've got to." He hesitated. "So you liked my team then?"

"I did. They're very close, aren't they?"

"I like to think they are."

"And to you."

"I hope so. Mostly Eric and Calleigh – we've been together a long time. Ryan joined a bit later. Walter, quite recently."

"I thought Calleigh was rather preoccupied. I imagine the children are taking much of her concentration. Eric was exactly as I expected." He raised his eyebrows, and she elaborated. "You once told me he'd 'walk through the gates of hell for you'. And you're right. He absolutely adores you."

"That obvious?" Horatio found himself flushing. "They'll start talking about us."

"Just a professional observation. Don't worry. Did you know, relationships between two men are thought to be stronger than between a man and a woman?"

"We don't have a 'relationship'!"

"Oh, my English still fails me sometimes. I know 'relationship' implies something sexual. I don't mean that at all. I don't know the word for what I mean. Like… soldiers in combat. Or policemen with their partners, I suppose. Men in dangerous situations often have these very close…"

"Relationships?"

"You're laughing at me." Cecile pulled a face at him.

"Wouldn't dare. And no, I don't know what the right word is. I _do_ know what you mean though. It's having someone you can totally depend on. Someone you'd trust your life to." He felt like changing the subject. "What did you think of Frank?"

She chuckled. "A very intimidating man. But a soft heart?"

"Not sure the people he arrests would agree about that! He's a good friend. He sometimes decides I'm getting too… pleased with myself, so he sets out to take me down a peg or two."

"A _true_ friend, then."

Horatio finished his coffee. "I'm not sleeping on your sofa tonight. I'd better make a move. When will I see you?"

"Monday? I shall spend all day worrying about Sébastien, so I'd like to be distracted while he's there."

"Okay. I'll come by early – we'll drop the mutt in. Think what you'd like to do." He lifted the terrier into Cecile's arms, then stood up and walked with her to the door. There, he kissed her on the cheek and jogged down the stairs to the car.

* * *

The same vet was on duty. She bent to stroke Sébastien. "Hello, little man. You look happier." She took the leash from Cecile. "He should be ready after lunch. We'll call you."

"Look after him…" Cecile's anxiety was obvious.

"We will."

They returned to Horatio's car. "He'll be all right," he said. "As you said, it's a minor thing for a dog. What would you like to do today?"

"Can we just walk? Have lunch?"

He realised she was too distracted for anything else. "Of course. The beach?"

They walked slowly. She reached for his hand and held it lightly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything. Although," he smiled, "you already know just about everything about me."

She ignored that. "When we met – at the hospital – and had lunch… You sounded really lonely and depressed… But, since then…"

He interrupted her. "It was something to do with being in hospital, as you said. I'm fine. Anyway, I met you."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Lieutenant Caine! So you're not depressed?"

"No more than usual."

"Horatio, I'm serious! I worry about you."

"Well, don't. If you want a serious answer – I do get depressed. Or at least, down. Cecile, I see the worst of human nature almost every day. It has an effect. But it's nothing like I was when I first came to you. Okay? Now let's talk about you. Don't you ever get lonely?"

"Sometimes I do. I think that's one of the reasons I wanted a dog. I don't make friends easily. My clients are almost all deeply unhappy people… After a difficult consultation, I often go for a walk, so having a joyful little dog with me will be perfect."

"Do you miss your family?"

"Sometimes. I visit about once a year, but I hate that long flight. Probably I shock you, but we're not that close."

"Everyone's different. I probably make 'family' too important – the idea of family…"

"Because you've lost yours." She squeezed his hand. "Except this son you forgot to tell me about. What's he like?"

"Great. Now. He was a teenage tearaway when I first came across him – heading down all the wrong paths. Did a short time in prison… I didn't know who he was at first. Didn't know I had a son. But he came right. Did some work for me. Joined the military, which worried me sick, but gave him some much needed discipline. Now he's gone back to college."

"What about his mother?"

He gave a combination of a sigh and a smile. "Julia… She has, er, some mental health issues. Definitely chooses wrong paths. Very bad influence on Kyle, although I think he's realised that at last."

"But you loved her once?"

"I did. Long time ago." He looked at her. "We're talking about me again. Tell me about you."

"Oh, I'm very boring."

"I'm sure you're not."

"Well… I grew up just outside Paris, got a good education, a good degree. Happy enough childhood, if rather… cold. My father was a great believer in self-control, self-discipline. No emotions, you know? I married young… Pierre… We had a daughter… We divorced when I was forty and Jacqueline was sixteen. I was selfish – I wanted my career back."

"Was it amicable? The divorce?"

"Not very, but… civilised. I came to America. They stayed in France. That's it."

"And you've been here ever since?"

"Twenty-two years now. I'm almost an American." She laughed.

"You know, we're not that different. Neither of us really has close family," Horatio said thoughtfully. "Were you ever tempted to remarry?"

"Tempted, yes. Once. But I realised I was too set on my own path for it to work."

"I can understand that."

"You married…"

"That decision was…" He searched for the right word. "…complicated."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

TAKING A BREAK

Chapter 3

"I'm sorry," Cecile said. "I didn't mean to raise bad memories. That's a big fault of mine – I can't stop asking questions."

Horatio chuckled. "I know that feeling. It's okay. I'll tell you all about it one day. Come on, let's sit down for a bit."

They found a comfortable place, and sat in a companionable silence, enjoying the sun, which, for once, was pleasantly warm rather than scorching. He caught Cecile glancing at her watch.

"Sorry, I was wondering how Sébastien was getting on."

"He's probably done and recovering."

"It's silly to worry, I know. I've only had him a week or two, but he's already in my heart." She laughed awkwardly.

"He's a lucky dog. He's found his place. Are you training him – 'sit' and 'stay' and so on?"

"He seems to know it all. He's been someone's pet, once. He knows it in English, not French, of course."

Horatio chuckled. "That's good. Because I certainly don't know dog commands in French." He looked at her curiously. "Do you still think in French?"

"Sometimes. I've little chance to speak it, except when I call my daughter. Your Walter speaks French, you know."

"I know – it's been useful on occasions. Eric speaks Spanish, and a little Russian – Russian father."

"What about you?"

"I can get by in Spanish…"

They chatted about nothing very much, had lunch at a small beachside bar, and waited for the phone call from the vet. And Horatio realised he had hardly thought about the lab at all.

Cecile's phone buzzed. Horatio watched her answer, and her expression changed to a smile.

He waited, then said, "He's okay?"

"He's fine. Sleepy, but we can collect him."

Sébastien tottered towards them as if he'd had a heavy night on the town, but his tail was wagging, and the vet was pleased. "The castration was straightforward. His leg's healing beautifully. Walk him on the leash for about three weeks – no galloping or jumping, but he'll be as good as new."

They took the dozy terrier home, and he was installed on Cecile's bed to sleep it off. They went out to the balcony.

"Better?" asked Horatio, with a trace of amusement.

"Yes. Sorry – I don't usually get anxious about things…"

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I understand."

"Actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you about…"

"Not about dogs? I'm no expert."

"No, not dogs." She was silent for a while, and Horatio waited for her to speak. "It's difficult."

He had a brief thought that she was going to say something about their growing friendship, and experienced an odd feeling of apprehension in the pit of his stomach.

Cecile spoke again. "It's about a client…"

He nodded in encouragement. _Not us, thank goodness…_

"My problem is that everything's confidential."

"You know you can trust my discretion."

"Yes, but I've always had an absolute rule that I don't discuss the people I see."

"But you're worried…"

"It's a man I've seen twice. He… makes me very uncomfortable."

"So drop him."

"I can't do that!" she protested. "He needs my help."

"Let someone else help him."

"No! That's not the answer. He chose to come to me." She frowned at him. "Horatio, I thought you might be able to understand, but forget it."

"I'm sorry. But you're here on your own. It worries me if you've got a weirdo client."

"I didn't say he was a weirdo. No, I shouldn't have mentioned it. Just forget it." She got up and went inside.

Horatio silently cursed himself. The trouble was that most people he came across were weirdos. Weirdos and bad guys. With a sigh, he got up and followed Cecile into the kitchen.

He put a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry. That was a policeman's reaction. You must see a lot of odd people…"

She still wouldn't look at him. "I see a lot of _troubled_ people. And people get angry, or they cry… That's all normal."

"Come on, come back and sit down. I'm sorry I reacted – I just worry about you seeing these people on your own."

She followed him back to the balcony. "I don't like being 'worried' about. I'm used to looking after myself."

"I know."

"Do you? I think you believe that all females need a man to look after them."

"Perhaps I do. You're not the first to point it out. This client of yours… Is he a cop?"

"No."

"So I'm unlikely to know him. Tell me about him. You don't need to give me his name."

After a pause, Cecile sighed, but seemed to decide to trust him. "It's hard to explain. It's more what you would call, I think, a gut feeling. He… gets too close when he says hello or goodbye. He leans close when he's talking. He makes… personal remarks. Inappropriate remarks."

"I'm not being unsympathetic, but doesn't that often happen? I mean, most of your clients are men, yes? And you're an attractive woman…"

"No, it doesn't often happen." She still sounded annoyed. "I'll tell you why. My clients are generally very troubled, very unhappy with their lives. As you were, Horatio. The last thing on their minds is making advances on their therapist."

"How old is he?"

"In his forties. And I'm in my sixties, so his apparent interest is a little odd. And I don't think he _is_ interested in me. I suspect it's the way he is to everyone. Or everyone female."

"Can you tell me any more? Is he in the military?"

"No – a private citizen. I don't know how he got my name. Perhaps his doctor… I should ignore this, Horatio. Just do my job. It's not necessary to like everyone I see."

"Cecile, my dear, if I've learned anything, it's to _always_ take notice of gut feelings." He thought for a moment. "Would you feel like trusting me with a name? I'll run him – see if he's got a record."

"Can you do it without anyone knowing?"

"Unfortunately not. Those records can only be accessed from certain terminals within the lab. Not from my laptop, for example. And the fact that there's been a search is recorded."

"We can't then."

"That doesn't mean it will be noticed or queried. I search all sorts of records, and the person searched never knows. Most come to nothing. Unless he's wanted by the FBI or something…" He meant it as a joke, but Cecile only looked worried. "The only problem is, I'm on holiday for two weeks."

"He's due to see me tomorrow. Leave it for now. I'll see what I think this time."

"I could be here – stay out of sight."

"Absolutely not! It would be a complete betrayal!"

He sighed. "I don't like this…" He thought for a moment. "What would you do if he made a move on you?"

She shrugged. "Try to talk to him."

"A weapon might have more effect."

"No, Horatio! I can't believe you'd suggest it. No, leave it. I'll talk to him tomorrow." She put her hand on his knee. "Just forget it for now."

Reluctantly, he agreed. "All right. What time is he coming?"

"Two o'clock. What are you going to do?"

"Nothing, if you don't want me to, but I'll keep my cell handy. You've got me on speed dial? Keep your phone on you. Any problems, just call. And call me when he's gone."

The following day, from half past one, Horatio sat in his car, just round the corner from Cecile's condo. It was no use coming closer. It was a big apartment block, with many people coming and going, so he was very unlikely to identify the man. And he knew instinctively that Cecile shouldn't see him. So he sat, edgy and anxious, with his phone beside him on the seat. Cecile rang at three-thirty.

"Okay?" he asked at once.

"Okay. He's gone." He sensed relief, and something else, in her voice.

"Shall I come round?"

"Come tomorrow. Now I have to write up my notes, and take Sébastien out."

"If you're sure…"

"I am. It's fine, really."

With that, Horatio had to be content. He made an illegal U-turn, and drove home.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

TAKING A BREAK

Chapter 4

"So how did it go?" Horatio asked. With his highly tuned instincts about human nature, he sensed Cecile was still upset, a day later.

She was silent for a long time before answering. "I've told him I can't see him again."

"Did something happen?"

"More of the same. And…" She hesitated.

Horatio reached out and took her hand. He understood only too well that Cecile was a self-confident, self-possessed woman, so, if she was upset, it was serious. "Tell me…" he said softly. "Did he get physical?"

She nodded, pulled back her sleeve, and showed him the bruises. "It's nothing. Just bruising."

Horatio was appalled. "You know that's assault?"

"Technically."

"No, actually. You have to report this guy."

She squeezed his hand, then turned to put the coffee machine on. "He just got cross when I told him I wouldn't see him again. It wasn't really an assault. He just grabbed my arms."

Horatio shook his head. "I'm thankful that you're all right, but – think about it, Cecile – he's going to do the same to someone else. Maybe worse. Will you tell me his name?"

"I don't know… Let's have some coffee… Let me think about it." She smiled tentatively at his frowning face. "Sébastien took a dislike to him, by the way."

"Yes, well, it proves how intelligent dogs are. What happened?"

"He came to the door with me. And he growled. I've never seen him do that. A real growl, showing his teeth. I shut him in the bedroom, but he didn't give up. I could hear him."

"That should have warned you."

"Horatio, I didn't need a warning! I knew I had a… difficult… client. I told you that."

He nodded, but stayed silent. He knew that badgering her would not have the desired effect. Cecile needed to make up her own mind to trust him. He watched her pour the coffee, and followed her to the balcony. Sébastien looked up from his sun-bathing spot, and wagged his stumpy tail.

"Hello, pal, how you doing?" He bent to stroke the dog's head, and was rewarded with a small whine. "Bit sore, huh?"

"He's play-acting. He's looking for sympathy."

"I don't even like dogs that much."

"Oh no? Well, they like you. Or this one does." She smiled fondly at her new pet. "I'm going to be able to use him in therapy, I think. He's friendly enough. It really depends whether he'll be calm enough. But he seems intelligent – he'll probably understand what's needed."

After a long silence, she said quietly, "If I give you his name, will you see if he's got a record?"

"I've said I would."

"When you're back at work…"

"I don't think we should leave it that long. I can call Eric…"

"I want you to do it."

He thought for a moment. "All right. I'll go in – make some excuse."

"Don't do anything else, will you? I'm not reporting an assault, so there's no point in you going after him. I shouldn't be telling you at all."

"Let's just see what we find."

It was all he was going to get, for now. Later that day, he headed for the lab. Still casually dressed, he realised he hadn't got his badge with him. Feeling rather awkward, he slipped his driver's license into his pocket, just in case. He needn't have worried. The receptionist's greeting, "Wow, Lieutenant, I hardly recognised you," while unprofessional, at least removed the need for ID.

"I'm on vacation. Just need to fetch something. Five minutes. Do you need me to sign in?"

"No, if it's just five minutes. As it's you."

He sprinted up the stairs and slipped unnoticed into an empty DNA lab. Logging on to the secure terminal, he entered the details Cecile had given him. As he waited, he was unsure whether he hoped to find something or not.

"Who the hell are you?" Eric's voice, from the doorway.

Horatio didn't turn. "Thought the hair would be a giveaway," he said softly.

"H? God, I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting you."

He looked round then. "Just needed to check something."

Eric came into the room. "You're not working, are you? You could have asked me."

"It's sort of unofficial. I didn't want anyone else involved."

"You're not in trouble?"

Horatio chuckled. "Nothing like that." He quickly pressed 'print' and cleared the screen. "Forget you saw me." He took the printed sheets out of the machine. "Right, I'm gone. Everything okay here?"

"Of course. Go on, get out of here."

Back in the car, he perused the man's record. With a sinking feeling, he realised it wasn't something he could just brush off. He was going to have to take things further. He put the papers aside and drove home, deep in thought.

That evening, he rang Cecile. "We need to talk."

"You sound very serious."

"It is serious. It's about your client. Your ex-client…"

"Well, I guessed that. You've got your policeman-voice. I assume you've found out something about him?"

"I have. Can I see you?"

"Not tomorrow. I've got two appointments, morning and afternoon…"

"I thought you only had one." He said it without thinking.

"Are you checking up on me? I took an extra one – an urgent request. Horatio, don't you start worrying about me. I don't like it."

"I know, but…"

"No buts. One's a long-time client; the new one, unusually, is a woman. So you needn't have any concerns. Come Friday. We'll talk then." She sounded impatient.

He realised he had been pushing. Too hard. It was in his nature to pursue something as soon as he had information, but he needed to slow down, or risk alienating Cecile. She had given him the information very reluctantly, and he knew she had breached her own code of ethics to do so. The records did give cause for concern, but going at it like a bull at a gate – or a senior investigator – was not going to work. Neither was rushing round to Cecile's every other day. If he did, he thought he might very likely be shown the door. And he would hate that to happen.

He calmed down.

* * *

He got up early on Thursday and went for a long run. The physical exercise took his mind off everything else. He was reasonably fit, but this time, he pushed himself to the point of breathlessness and burning muscles. He slowed to a jog as he headed home. A shower and a leisurely breakfast… He decided he still didn't enjoy holidays, but he could put up with it for a few days. But not inactivity… He went shopping for food. He thought it was high time he cooked for Cecile, rather than the other way round. With that in mind, he gave his home a more thorough clean than it had had in weeks, then decided to install some new DVD storage that he'd had for ages… And then had to clean that area again. The day passed, but he decided he enjoyed domesticity even less than holidays. _Pathetic… _At least it made him tired, and he slept well.

* * *

"For God's sake, Seb…" He laughed, as the terrier, perched on his knee again, gave his face a thorough licking. "I don't like dogs."

"Keep saying it, Horatio. We might even believe you." He thought Cecile sounded happier, more herself. "Come on, tell me what you found out."

"Did he tell you he was on parole?"

"No, he did not. Not that that would prevent me seeing someone… So he has a record then…"

"Domestic violence, and assault. He's just served three years of a five year sentence for assault on a woman he was dating." He handed her the printout. "Here, read it. But keep it confidential, or I'll lose my job."

She nodded thoughtfully. "So if I report him, he'll go back to prison?"

"Undoubtedly." He waited.

She was silent for a long time. "I don't know what to do. If it was just me, I'd leave it. Some of the things he told me… I can understand why he might be… as he is. But – what you said – that he might hurt someone else…"

"Cecile, think of it like this. If you'd just been released on parole, you'd try very hard to keep out of trouble. He can't control his temper where women are concerned."

"But – if he goes back to prison for the two years, then what?" She answered her own question, with a cynical chuckle. "They'll recommend therapy, I imagine. It's just a cycle… It doesn't solve his problems."

"It's an imperfect system."

"I wish I hadn't told him to go. I might have been able to help."

"Cecile…"

"Oh, I don't know what to do, Horatio! How can I make things worse for him?"

Horatio was having trouble understanding. To him, it was simple. The man was violent. He had broken parole. So, he deserved to go back inside. Then it stopped being a problem. But Cecile took on damaged people, tried to make them whole.

"All right," he said slowly. "I've got an idea… Leave it with me."

"You won't report him?"

"Not at the moment." He smiled brightly. "Come to dinner tonight? My place? You can bring Seb…"

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

TAKING A BREAK

Chapter 5

"This is all off the record, Ralph…" Horatio sat opposite the parole officer, a man he had in fact known for years.

"All right, go on."

"First, did you recommend Cecile Fournier?"

"I did. I've used her before. She seems very good."

Horatio smiled briefly. "She is. But she's also a woman, and this guy has a problem with women. Wouldn't you agree?"

Ralph frowned. "Of course. But he asked for a woman. Said he wouldn't do it otherwise. And I thought… Doctor Fournier is sixty-odd, so there shouldn't be a problem."

"Have you met Doctor Fournier?"

The parole officer shook his head. "I presume you have."

"She's a friend. And very attractive. But that's beside the point. It's your guy that's the problem."

"She told you that?"

"She doesn't betray confidences. Let's say, I saw the bruises."

"Oh hell…" He sighed. "So he's going back inside."

"Not necessarily. It hasn't been reported. As I said – off the record."

"Why?"

"Cecile. She has a kind heart. She doesn't want to make his problems worse, though she won't see him again. You have to find him a new therapist, preferably male. Keep a close eye on him. And maybe give him a stern warning. You can tell him he's being watched. If I find he's been within a mile of Cecile Fournier, it will be very much _on_ the record."

"Okay, Horatio. Understood. He's a lucky man."

"He is. Not my doing. I'd have him banged up right now."

"Is she hurt? Doctor Fournier?"

Horatio shook his head. "Just a bruise or two. Thank goodness." He stood up. "Keep me informed, will you, Ralph?"

He drove home, not really satisfied, but accepting it was all he could do, if his friend refused to press charges.

* * *

Horatio wasn't a bad cook, just out of practise. He kept such odd hours, that he frequently ended up eating on the run, or buying take-out. He was careful in his choices, and his health and weight seemed not to suffer much, but it did mean his kitchen was rarely used seriously. In consequence, he was slightly nervous, serving dinner to Cecile that evening.

It seemed successful though, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're a man of many talents, Horatio," Cecile said, putting aside her empty plate. "That was delicious."

"Thank you." He felt a brief scrape at his ankle, and laughed. "It's okay, Seb – there are a few scraps in the kitchen." He looked back at Cecile. "Room for dessert?"

Some time later, replete themselves and with Sébastien at least placated, they moved into the living area, with a pot of coffee.

"You haven't asked about your client…"

"I didn't want to spoil dinner. You'll tell me when you're ready."

He smiled. "Nothing to tell really. I spoke to his parole officer, who I happen to know. He'll get a new therapist, if he'll accept a man. He'll be watched, closely. One foot wrong, and he's back inside. I don't think you've got anything to worry about, but if you see him hanging around, let me know."

"I will."

They sat in silence for a while, silence except for Sébastien's snoring.

"He doesn't do that all night, does he?"

She laughed. "Sometimes. It's quite comforting."

For once, he was lost for a reply.

Cecile stood up. "Can I look round?"

"If you want. No secrets here." He was glad he had cleaned and tidied the place. He leant back on the sofa. Sébastien opened an eye, but, satisfied he hadn't been deserted, closed it again.

After a while, she returned and sat down beside him. "Not bad. For a bachelor."

_Widower…_ But he let it pass.

"There is one thing I noticed… There are no photographs. Not one."

"Who would I have photographs of?"

"I don't know. Your brother? His family?" She hesitated. "Marisol?"

"I don't need photos to remember…" His voice was unexpectedly husky. "To remember what I've lost." He hadn't really meant to say it aloud, and put it down to the fact that he had drunk several glasses of wine.

She took his hand. "My dear… It might actually help."

"Is that a psychiatrist's view?"

She shrugged. "It's true." She stroked his fingers. "Tell me about her."

"Oh, Cecile…"

"No, I'm sorry, not if you don't want to."

"It's not that I don't want to. It's just…"

"Complicated. You said."

"Well, it is." He gave a heavy sigh. "Mari was almost half my age. She was a sweet girl, intelligent but not highly educated… We had almost nothing in common."

"Except Eric."

He smiled sadly. "Except Eric." He looked at her. "It was a strange situation. I hardly know where to start."

"The beginning? How you met?"

"She was brought in on a drugs charge. She was using street drugs to treat her nausea… from chemotherapy. It would have been a misdemeanor, but she had bought some for others in her cancer support group, and that constituted dealing. It got worse. Eric failed a drugs test. Anyway, I managed to get them both out of it. It was Eric who concerned me – he'd been late for work a few times, seemed to have money troubles… Then Mari told me how much he was doing for her. Looking after her, driving her to hospital… He did finally admit it to me, but I knew, whatever I said, he wouldn't change what he was doing."

"Family."

"Exactly. I was worried for his job. I started looking for ways to help him. Meanwhile, Mari – grateful to me, I thought – started making me dinner, calling in to the office to see me… We started talking…" He fell silent.

"And you fell in love?"

"I think so."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I know how that sounds. I knew it wasn't a grand passion; we weren't soul mates, or anything like that. But she was a beautiful young woman, facing a life-threatening illness with great courage, who seemed to be in love with me. She came to me for advice… on all sorts of things…" He reached over to pour more coffee, and fell silent.

At last he went on. "She told me she was stopping chemo. She seemed to want my approval. I wasn't happy, but I told her it was her decision. She wanted her life back. She wanted to travel. Then she said she wanted a child. Honestly, I thought, with her medical history, it was unlikely, but I made encouraging noises. No, that's wrong… I said she should try. That it wasn't too late. And I realised she was looking at me as the father…"

"And you asked her to marry you?"

He chuckled. "Actually, she asked me. How could I say no, at that point? And I did love her." He toyed with his coffee cup, lost in thought.

"What did Eric think?"

"Not happy. I'm not sure why. I suppose he thought it was an odd match. He _said_ he was concerned for me, that the doctors had not given her much hope of long-term survival. And I thought – well, that's all right. I can look after her and Eric, while she's alive… I thought I'd cope better than him – pretty arrogant of me. And he may have felt I was muscling in, when he'd been looking after her for so long."

"Have you got a photo of her?"

He stood up, went into the bedroom, and came back with his wallet. He thrust a crumpled, much-handled photograph at Cecile.

She studied it. "She's very lovely."

"She is. Was." He took the photo back, but remained standing.

"So you married."

"Yes. She was so happy. Even Eric had come round to the idea." He drew a deep breath. "Then they murdered her."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

TAKING A BREAK

Chapter 6

Horatio turned away, with a helpless gesture to Cecile. "No more. Not tonight." He went into the bathroom, where he splashed water on his face. He realised he had never said so much about his short-lived marriage to anyone, and part of him wished he hadn't now. _That's what comes of drinking, you fool…_

Composing himself, he went back. Cecile hadn't moved. She smiled at him. "Okay?"

"Yep." He sat down beside her again. "I don't think that little tale reflected very well on me."

"I wouldn't say that." She squeezed his hand. "You're too hard on yourself. You always were. We should talk more about it – another time."

They sat in silence for a while, then he said, with marked reluctance, "I should clear up…"

"There's always tomorrow."

"I can't bear waking up to yesterday's dirty dishes."

"Take Sébastien out for a quick walk…"

"What?"

"Well, you know your way round here. Take him out for five minutes – get some fresh air. I'll load the dishwasher."

He smiled, realising she was offering him some time to himself. "You've got a deal. Come on then, pup."

He picked up the leash and a flashlight and went out. With Sébastien pulling him on, he walked straight over to the beach and down to the water-line. The cooler air made him realise how much wine he had drunk - he felt distinctly unsteady. He knew he'd overeaten as well, and thought he'd probably suffer for it later. Not that it mattered. He wasn't working, didn't have to drive anywhere. Didn't even have to get up early. A small wave rolled in, close enough to wet the dog's paws. Sébastien growled at it and jumped back. Horatio laughed.

"Come on, dog. Let's walk." They walked briskly along the deserted beach. The terrier pulled, wanting to be released, to run, but Horatio was mindful of the vet's instructions. "Soon, dog, soon…" He drew in deep breaths of the night air, trying to clear his head.

After fifteen minutes or so, he headed back. He found the dishwasher running, and the kitchen tidy. Cecile was browsing his bookshelves. She smiled at him as he came in. "Did he behave?"

"Of course." He took the leash off.

"He's a good dog. I'm so glad I got him."

He went to stand beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Analysing you," she teased. "You have very varied tastes in books. Have you read them all?"

"Yeah, I have."

"Poetry?"

"Why not?"

"Oh, no reason," she chuckled. "You're a constant surprise, Lieutenant."

"I do my best. More coffee? Or a drink?"

"No, I must go." She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'll call you over the weekend."

"I'll walk you out."

"No need. Sébastien will take care of me." Her tone was firm, and he let her go.

* * *

Horatio lay in bed, sleepless, and thought about Marisol. He had told Cecile some of it. He hadn't touched on the guilt he still felt. Although, Cecile knew all about his guilt… Didn't she? He suspected she would pursue the subject, sometime. In the past, she had convinced him that feeling guilty about every bad thing that happened was unjustified, and unproductive, and he had worked hard at not sinking back into that frame of mind. But with Marisol it was different. He _should_ feel guilty… Had he simply left her alone, she would not have been a target – simple as that…

Sleep wouldn't come. He got up, went to the bathroom, and swallowed two indigestion tablets. Opened one of the windows a crack, to let some air in, and went back to bed. Eventually, he dozed off.

He attempted his usual run next morning, but a muzzy head – he refused to think of it as a hangover – and a mildly uncomfortable stomach slowed him down. After a short time, feeling nauseous, he gave up and sat on the beach, watching the water, and thinking about Cecile. He realised he felt completely at ease in her company, even when she asked him about things he normally fought shy of discussing. He already thought of her as a close friend. He wondered, idly, if he was attracted to her in a romantic sense. It seemed unlikely. He had never dated anyone older than himself, rarely anyone the same age; most of his partners had been younger. Still, he was open-minded about such things… He would let it take its natural course.

He allowed a brief smile to cross his face, then got to his feet and headed home, walking slowly. He sat on the balcony with a cup of tea, and realised that a week had passed, without him once giving the lab a serious thought. True, he'd been tempted to call Eric once or twice, but he hadn't. He had not got as far as saying he enjoyed time off, but he faced the second week with more equanimity.

* * *

Cecile called him on Sunday. "How are you?"

"Fine. You?"

"Also fine. I've been thinking – we're wasting your vacation – we should do things."

"What things? I'm quite happy…"

"Yes, but if we keep having dinners, with dessert and wine, I'm going to be a size larger by the end of the week."

He laughed. "I know the feeling. So what do you want to do?"

"Well… Say no, if it doesn't appeal, but there's an exhibition at Art Fusion that I'd like to go to. And how do you feel about the theater?"

"Yes, to both. What, at the theater? What do you like?"

"Almost anything, except a comedy. Let me get tickets – surprise you."

"Okay, but I'll pay you back."

"No, you won't." She sounded very firm. "Right – Art Fusion tomorrow. I'll pick you up at ten. I'll try for theater tickets for Thursday – and you can pick _me_ up. And Wednesday… come for dinner. Come early and we'll take Sébastien out."

"You're organizing me…"

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all. I'll see you tomorrow. Love to Seb…" He was amused, but he found he didn't object to being organized, not at all. He was so used to running the show, to making all the decisions, that it was oddly pleasant to have it taken out of his hands.

* * *

He was surprised how much he enjoyed the exhibition. He was more than happy to accompany Cecile, but he had always been vaguely suspicious of contemporary art. Sometimes he saw only splashes and dots. He knew he wasn't, by nature, particularly artistic, but it galled him if something that others raved about left him cold. However, Cecile's enthusiasm infected him.

"Come on, explain it to me," he said.

"I can't," she replied. "It's more… a feeling. Does it give you a feeling? Of peace? Or excitement?"

"Not really…"

"Just… absorb it. You can't force it."

They moved on. "Oh, I like this one. It's got… energy."

"It has." She smiled at him, then referred to the catalogue. "Fifteen thousand dollars."

"I don't like it that much."

They spent several hours there, finishing with a late lunch in the restaurant.

"Right," Cecile said at last. "I'll drop you home, and get back – I must see what damage Sébastien's done."

He raised his eyebrows.

"It's the first time I've left him for any length of time. I shut him in the kitchen, so we'll see… I just hope he hasn't been howling. I don't want a dispute with the neighbors."

"You want me to check for reports of neighborhood disturbances?"

She poked him in the ribs. "I do not!"

She drove him home, and they parted with a brief kiss. "See you Wednesday."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

TAKING A BREAK

Chapter 7

Horatio reached Cecile's just after lunch. She was packing water bottles and snack bars into a small back pack.

"Long walk then?"

"We'll have to see how he stands up to it." She gestured to Sébastien, who was performing a kind of dance at her feet. "He certainly needs to release some energy."

"How was he when you got in on Monday?"

"All right. He'd emptied the trash can and peed on the floor, but I didn't have any complaints, so he was probably quiet." She bent down and stroked the dog's head.

They drove further up the coast before beginning their walk, and parked at the entrance to a woodland track.

"I'll carry that." Horatio indicated the back pack.

"No, it's very light." Cecile shrugged into it. "You can take Sébastien."

He wasn't sure who got the better deal, since the terrier, for such a small animal, pulled like a train. "Look at him – he'll choke himself."

"When he realises that, he'll stop. I've been doing some training, but he's so eager to run."

"What is it – another week?"

She nodded. "I get so tempted to let him go, but I'd never forgive myself if he damages his leg again." She looked at Horatio. "So, my love, you'll have to put up with it."

He blinked slightly at the endearment, but let it pass.

They walked, talking inconsequentially, or in a friendly silence. Walked slowly, allowing the dog to explore and sniff – as far as he could on a long leash.

Cecile took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something?" She hesitated. "No, I shouldn't…"

"Go on. Ask away."

"All right. What does it feel like to get shot?"

"What?" Cecile's question took him by surprise. Then he laughed briefly. "What do you think? It hurts."

"Seriously. I've always wondered. You see it on television, and people either drop in their tracks, or roll around in agony… and I wondered…"

"Seriously? It must depend where you're shot. Mine wasn't much more than a flesh wound. Even so…" He chuckled. "It was like being punched in the gut. Dropped me." He was silent, then added, "It was very bloody and very painful, but the oddest thing was how weak I felt. I just wanted to sleep. I could hardly raise my gun. I suppose it was shock."

She nodded thoughtfully.

He decided not to go into details about getting to his feet, diving into the harbor, and the rest of the heroics. Instead, he said quietly, "I must have passed out for a few seconds – I had a… hallucination, I suppose, about Marisol."

"Really?"

"Yes. Not a dream – I hardly ever remember dreams that clearly. This felt completely real… we were in a restaurant, talking… I was still bleeding, but it didn't hurt… I felt totally peaceful. Then she said I had to go back. She just walked away. And I found myself back at the harbor…"

She didn't seem surprised, but she took his hand and squeezed it. "They call them near-death experiences."

"I know. But I wasn't near death. It wasn't that bad."

"It's not something that's really understood…"

"When I… came back… I just felt… bereft – all over again. A great surge of misery. I could have curled up and cried… Or died." He laughed awkwardly. "I didn't. I got up."

"Have you talked about this to anyone?"

"Not really. Nothing to talk about. I'm only telling you because you asked about being shot. It happened again… seeing Marisol, I mean."

"When?"

"When I got that infection. Same wretched fragmented bullet. I was – I think – unconscious at the time. Or just about. This time it wasn't as vivid… Only me wanting to stay, and her sending me away – again. Not 'my time'. You see? I obviously want to die, and they won't let me." His tone was flippant, but Cecile didn't laugh.

"She's clearly at the forefront of your mind. If we go on talking about her, will it upset you?"

"I don't know. What is this? A consultation?"

"Only an informal one. I don't like hearing you say you want to die."

"Hey, I wasn't serious."

"But you've never got over it, have you?"

"She was my wife!" He hadn't meant to snap, and repeated, more gently, "She was my wife – if she hadn't been, they wouldn't have shot her."

She nodded, seeming to accept that he was perhaps still too raw to talk about it. They walked on in silence.

"Let's sit down for a while. Sébastien's panting." She took off the back pack, extracted a collapsible dog bowl, and poured him some water. The dog lapped it eagerly. She offered a bottle to Horatio. "Want some?"

"Thanks."

They sat, drinking water, and eating cereal bars, while Sébastien lay quietly beside them, apparently resting, but with one eye on the snack bars.

Oddly, it was Horatio who felt compelled to raise the subject again. "I _do_ think about her a lot. You'll say I shouldn't, but I feel so guilty."

"I know you do. Tell me how it was your fault?"

"It was nothing to do with her. It was aimed solely at hurting me. A guy called Riaz – he told me he was going to take 'everything I loved'. He made a pretty good attempt too. He ordered the hit on Mari. My brother was killed – I don't suppose Riaz did it himself, but it was at his behest, I've got no doubt. And he almost got his claws into my nephew…"

"Was he charged?"

"Our illustrious government let him go as part of a deal – he went back to Brazil."

"He's still there?"

Horatio gave a mirthless chuckle. "In a manner of speaking. I killed him."

"Oh…" She looked at him. "Is there any guilt about that?"

"None. I killed him, and some of his gang. I'd do it again. And before you think it was self-defense, or anything legitimate, it wasn't. Eric and I went down there for one reason – vengeance."

"Eric was there…"

"But I did the killing. And, you know what? I didn't really feel any better afterwards. And, later, I had every chance to kill the man who actually pulled the trigger on her. And I didn't take it."

"Apart from the fact that you married her, why is it your fault?"

"It just is. I should have realised, protected her. Although… I did make sure she had someone looking after her. If not me or Eric, then an officer. But it was a sniper shot – long distance…"

"That you couldn't have foreseen."

"It's my job to foresee things like that."

"Horatio…" She took his hand and caressed it gently. "This is one guilt I won't be able to talk you out of. Does Eric blame you?"

"He doesn't seem to. Can't understand why not."

"But perhaps the fact that he doesn't might give you a different perspective of it. In time…"

He sighed. "How much time, Cecile?"

"I don't know, my dear. The sadness will stay. I hope the guilt might ease…"

He nodded, and drank some more water. Then he smiled. "I'm sorry – I'm spoiling a glorious day."

"It's okay. You're not spoiling anything." She squeezed his hand, then released it. "You can always talk – about anything." She repacked the bottles and dog bowl. "Come on. Let's swap. I'll take Sébastien for a while. It _is_ a glorious day."

By the time they finally got back to the car, the sun was going down, and the only one not flagging was Cecile. Horatio got into the driving seat. "You're fit! My legs are aching." Sébastien gave a whine of agreement, and flopped down in the foot well. "You too, pal?"

"I hope I haven't hurt his leg."

"I wouldn't think so. He's not even limping."

Horatio drove them back to Cecile's. "I enjoyed that."

"Good." She smiled at him. "But now I'm going to disappoint you – I haven't been able to get the theater tickets I wanted… They're absolutely sold out."

"Doesn't matter. We'll go to the cinema." He got out of the car, then reached in the back for a bag. He caught her surprised look. "Just spare clothes… Can I use your shower? I'm very sweaty…"

"Of course."

They passed a pleasant evening, but a whole day in the fresh air had made them both sleepy, and he left early, rather than spend another night on the couch.

* * *

A cinema visit the next day was less enjoyable than he expected. It was literally years since he'd been to a cinema, and he was unprepared for the behavior of the audience. They chatted, ate what seemed like three-course meals, and answered cell phones.

He whispered to Cecile, "I didn't know people had got so badly-behaved."

"Didn't you? Do you want to go?"

"No. It's a good film." It was, but he couldn't concentrate, and was guiltily glad when it finished.

"Why do they pay good money and talk all the way through?" he complained, as they walked back to the car. "It's… disrespectful."

"It is, but it's how people are."

"I'm getting old."

"If you are, then what does that make me?"

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

TAKING A BREAK

Chapter 8

It was Friday, and Horatio was enjoying a leisurely breakfast on his balcony. He acknowledged that it hadn't taken much time to get lazy. He hadn't even dressed yet. His cell bleeped.

"Ralph?"

"Horatio – I said I'd keep in touch…"

"Mmm?"

"Doctor Fournier needn't worry any more – your guy's banged up again."

"I don't think she _was_ worried. It was more me. What did he do?"

"Had an altercation with a woman, in a bar. Hit her. She fell and split her head open. Apart from breaching parole, there'll be new charges filed. You won't see him again for a while. Nasty man… I'm amazed at the people they grant parole to these days."

"Indeed. Thanks, Ralph." He rang off, relieved. He suspected, if he told Cecile, that she'd merely feel she'd failed someone, and he decided not to mention it, unless she did.

He went to get more coffee, and sat back, eyes closed, basking in the morning sunshine.

His cell bleeped again. He reached for it, muttering, "No rest for the wicked…" He looked at the caller ID and smiled. "Good morning, Eric."

"Hi, boss – just wondered how you're doing."

"Fine. Not _doing_ anything. Did you want me?"

"Not really. I'd half expected to hear from you. Knowing how much you hate holidays…"

"I'm changing my mind about that. Sitting in the sun, watching the ocean, drinking coffee… No murders to process, no traffic to fight through, no paperwork… I could get used to it."

"No, you couldn't."

"No, I couldn't," he laughed. "Are you busy?"

"Fairly. But we're okay. You're back on Monday, right?"

"Yep."

"So you're not short of company then?" Eric clearly wanted to say something…

He chuckled. "I think I'm doing okay with that, brother. But you can come round this evening, if you want. Bring some take-out."

"No date tonight then?"

"Meaning what?"

"You were seen, boss. Regal Cinema. South Beach."

"I wasn't hiding. Good God, haven't you lot got anything to do but gossip?"

Eric sounded unabashed. "Your French lady?"

"Mind your own business. Go on, go and do some work. Come this evening."

Eric laughed. "Okay, see you…"

Shaking his head, but smiling, Horatio closed the phone. The lab was a hotbed of gossip, and, sometimes, his brother-in-law was the nosiest of them all.

* * *

That evening, they sat, eating Chinese, and talking – about work. Eric described, with some relish, Horatio thought, a completely revolting crime scene, involving a bloated body, maggots and worse.

"Glad it was your call, not mine," Horatio said mildly. "And you could have waited till we'd finished eating."

"Go on, you don't mind things like that. You never turn a hair."

"Wouldn't do much good if I did."

"Does it really not bother you?"

"I suppose I've schooled myself not to react. The sights don't bother me as much as the smells." He smiled. "There are certainly times when I've only just managed not to throw up."

"Well, you never show it."

"Good. Got to set an example. Have you never noticed me leave the room rather quickly?"

"Not really."

"Odd things get to me. Do you remember that girl whose head was twisted round one hundred and eighty degrees? _That_ upset me."

"I don't think I was at that one." Eric hesitated. "So you're enjoying your time off? What have you been doing?"

"I thought you knew."

"Oh, one of the techs spotted you at the cinema… Only that one time."

"Sorry, I'll leave a schedule next time."

"No, I'm sorry… I'm just interested…" Eric had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Nosy, you mean." But he was laughing. "Yes, I've been out with a friend – a lady friend – a few times."

"I'm happy for you. You _look_ happy… I mean, more relaxed… Less tired…"

"I should shut up, if I were you, Eric."

"Yes, probably best."

It actually amused him that he was the subject of gossip, because he simply couldn't understand why he was so interesting to them. But he supposed he was known as a complete loner, so being seen with a woman…

They spent a pleasant evening, talking, but the familiar banter with Eric was enough to jump-start his desire to be back in the lab. Eric was right – he couldn't do without it. After his visitor had gone, he began to think about Cecile. He couldn't quite decide how he felt about her; whether he was attracted. He also couldn't decide whether she was attracted to him. Oh, she called him 'my dear', 'my love', but the endearments were delivered in a light-hearted way. They had kissed, but only on the cheek. And the French did that, didn't they? _ Why do you have to analyze everything… Put a label on everything… _She was a friend, and that was surely the most important thing.

* * *

On Saturday evening, he was sitting on his friend's balcony – again – having enjoyed another dinner. Sébastien sat on his knee – again.

"That dog prefers you to me," Cecile murmured.

"I doubt that." Horatio stroked the small silky ears, as the terrier gazed lovingly into his eyes.

"He does. Look at him." Cecile held up a hand. "Don't say it! I know! You don't like dogs."

"Well, maybe some dogs."

"So… How have you enjoyed your time off? Considering you were dreading it…"

"I've enjoyed it a lot. Thanks to you." He smiled warmly at her.

"It wasn't solely for your benefit, you know – it's wonderful to have someone to go out with. And to talk to."

"Come on – you talk to people for a living."

"Not the same."

"No?" He looked doubtful. "I seem to have been telling you my troubles all week…"

"Once or twice. Not all week. Anyway, I asked." She hesitated. "So, back to work?"

"On Monday. Few things to get ready tomorrow."

"What does getting ready for work entail?"

"Cleaning and oiling a couple of guns. Polishing my shoes. Trying on a suit to see if I can still get the pants done up."

"You're like a whippet – there's nothing of you!"

He chuckled. "I suspect there's a little bit more of me than there was two weeks ago."

"I doubt it. What else?"

"I ought to get a haircut, but I've left it a bit late. And, I brought a cold case file home, and I haven't even looked at it. Might give that an hour or two."

"Sébastien's going to miss you."

"Hey, we'll still see each other, won't we?" He was suddenly alarmed at the thought that they might not.

"Of course, but, probably not for long walks and such. I know you – you'll get busy, work late…"

"I might try to do that a bit less."

She reached over and took his hand. "My workaholic Horatio… I hope you mean that."

"I do. I'd like the odd long walk with Seb. I'd like to cook you dinner again."

"I'd like that too."

They sat in silence for a while, then Horatio made to get up. "I should go. It's late…"

Instead, Cecile stood up, came over to him, and put her hand on his cheek. He found himself receiving a very gentle kiss. "You know, you don't _need_ to go home tonight…"

THE END


End file.
